


it's enough

by orphan_account



Series: i'm weak, my love (i'm too wanting) [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Cuddling, Found Family, Gen, Geralt is a trans woman, Jaskier and Ciri are both trans men, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, babey - Freeform, ciri is Sleepy and also, geralt is up all night Thinking, its cute yall, jaskier is a blanket hog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:15:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23366044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Witchers weren't supposed to feel, they shouldn't  get attached, and they especially shouldn't love. And yet, Geralt was.Geralt was so, so in love, and so lost for it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: i'm weak, my love (i'm too wanting) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1632907
Comments: 3
Kudos: 145





	it's enough

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the witcher, everyone is trans. Leave comments and kudos cowards, and give me thoughts on what else you would like from this series. I have another Big Fic in the works involving hair, and also.. Regis!

Ciri was a warm form pressed against her own, the small boy sound asleep and leeching the heat from Geralt with the efficiency of any child. He was so young, so gentle against the force of the world and it's evil. Geralt had scarcely known the boy for more than a year but she already knew she'd do anything to keep him safe. Be it hell or high water, her own heart if need be, she'd keep him  _ safe. _

Did that mean she was a mother? She hoped she was a good one. 

Jaskier was nearby as well, a lump of blankets that she quickly noticed was inching closer and closer to her own shared pallet. A slash of fondness coursed through her and she pondered briefly if any other life would be like this. Ciri asleep in her bed and Jaskier at her side; a family, cliche as it would be. She bit down the ache that brought up with ferocity.

Her useless fucking body  _ shook _ and she frowned at nothing, the bard wiggling his way against her, oblivious to the tense feeling inside of her. He had finally made it the entire way to her pallet, sticking cold fingers and toes against her side as he was wont to do and pressing a sloppy kiss to the dip of her chest. "Careful," she forced herself to say, trying to ignore the quality of her voice. "Ciri is asleep." He hummed in reply, breath gusting across the delicate expanse of her neck as he moved to finally rest underneath her chin. All too comfortable in the arms of the devil themself.

Jaskier and Ciri made her feel… strange. The words failed her beyond measure and while she could spend hours trying to search for a way to describe it, she couldn't. They made her feel good and scared all at the same time along with such a jumble of other emotions that it nearly sent her spiralling whenever she tried to think on it. It was something akin to love. Like what she saw when queens gazed at their consorts and when two farm boys ran giggling into the woods; something thick in her chest and pulsating. 

Witchers weren't supposed to feel, they shouldn't get attached, and they especially shouldn't  _ love _ . And yet, she was. She was so, so in love with the people around her and it made her want to crawl out of her wrong skin and run away. From what, she didn't exactly know, she just wanted to run _ and run. _

Witchers don't feel- can't feel, and yet she was feeling so much and she didn't know what was  _ wrong _ with her. Was she defective? 

Jaskier must've noticed her malcontent at some point after he laid against her, and shifted to look up at her face. Instead of pressing or asking her what was wrong, he simply took her hand in his own. That was another thing– no one had ever held her hand with such genuine  _ worship _ , but Jaskier did and he meant it. She could practically smell the affection wafting off him, oxytocin and dopamine blending into a hazy musk that smelt faintly of dandelions. 

He took her hand achingly gentle into his own, uncaring of the rough calluses and dipping scars crossing it. Pressed a kiss to the back of her sword hewn knuckles like she was some sort of lady in finery. Smiled that damned smile like it didn't confuse her even more. "I love you." He murmured, careful to keep his voice quiet with Ciri on Geralt's other side. 

She almost asked him why, couldn't quite see it, but something in the timber of his speech stopped her. It was so soft but instead of making her head fill with cotton it soothed her. Geralt didn't answer him back verbally, but she pulled him closer and buried her face into his fluffy hair, and it was enough. It was enough. 


End file.
